


Lives Gone By

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: When Bilbo is dragged off on an adventure by 12 eager dwarves and a wizard, you see this as the chance to finally learn who you once were. Maybe these dwarves can piece together the pieces of your memory loss and help you reclaim more than a mountain.





	Lives Gone By

**Author's Note:**

> If you are reading this on Chrome please consider installing the add on 'InteractiveFics' which will change Y/N to your actual name.

Life in the Shire is good. It’s peaceful and pleasant and the hobbits are friendly and inviting. You had come to the Shire 40 years ago and had seen first=hand the hobbits could be to those in need.

All you knew of your past life was that you were a dwarf. You name, family and home were long since lost to you. Your ‘mother’ had found you unconscious in Bindbole Wood, half covered in snow and bleeding heavily from a wound on your head. She had brought you home and nursed you back to health with the help of her husband, whom you later called ‘father’. At the time their son had been only 10 years old and terrified of you, but at the years went on and both his mother and father eventually passed on, he grew into a fine young hobbit that you were now proud to call your brother.

That respectable brother of yours was currently dozing on the bench outside of your hobbit hole, a pipe smoking lightly in his hand. “I’m off to market!” you called to him as you closed the gate behind you. You brother cracked an eye open and waved his pipe lazily.

“Don’t forget the fish!”

You smile, wave and turn on your heel. You’re halfway down the path when a tall figure comes around the corner. You pause in surprise. Humans usually frequent the markets but never take the paths up through the holdings. As he draws near you see the old man is dressed in grey with a long, white beard peeping out from under a pointed hat. “Good morning!” you call to him as he draws near.

The man stops and looks up, leaning heavily on his walking stick. He looks at you for a moment and raises your eyebrow. “Well I’ll be!” he exclaims. “A dwarf in the shire!”

You smile and tilt your head. “Katy, lovely to meet you.”

The old man frowns. “Katy you say? Where do you live, Miss Katy?”

“Bag End, with my brother, Bilbo Baggins.” You reply. “Do you know him?”

“I knew him when he was very little, yes.” The old man rumbles, still frowning at you. “I am Gandalf the Grey.” He pauses, as though expecting some form of response. When you show no sign of knowing who he is he shrugs. “Please, continue on your way, Katy.” he stands aside to allow you to pass him and continue on your way to market.

 _Most unusual_. You muse.

You take your time in the market selecting the best fish, bread and cheese. Between the appetite of a hobbit and a dwarf your pantry is rarely stocked. Each hobbit that you pass smiles at you and bids you good morning, a stark change to what it had been like when you had first ventured out of Bag End all those years ago. The hobbits of the Shire didn’t know what to think of you. They had very little dealings with dwarves and thought you to be an imposter trying to cause them harm or ill doings. However once they had realised you were suffering with apparent irreversible memory loss and only wanted a home, they were more than welcoming.

When you return home you find Bilbo cowering in the pantry. “Is he gone?” he demands, sticking his head out from between some bowls of fruit.

“Who?”

“Gandalf?”

You nod. “Did he pay you a visit? He passed me on the way to market. He seemed very nice.”

“He asked me if I was interested in an adventure!” Bilbo laughs in disbelief, taking your basket from you. “Me! An adventure! He’s come to the wrong part of the world if he thinks anyone this side of Bree would be interested in such a thing!”

Bilbo is right. Hobbits are creatures of comfort and good food. Adventures are neither of those things. “Perhaps Gandalf is going a little mad in his old age. Wizard or not, he looks like he’s seen better days.”

“Hamfast called by earlier.” Bilbo informs you as he lights the stove. “Says he’s got some fresh turnips for us. Do you think you could possibly go and collect them?”

You sigh and roll your eyes with a smile. “Of course I can.”

The evening is warm tonight but it’s humid. In the distance you can see clouds forming. Looks like it’s going to rain tonight, which will be good for the tulips in the garden.

Hamfast’s hobbit hole is at the bottom of the hill and across the river. It has a lovely yellow door and as you push it open you’re hit with the smell of baking bread. “Hello?” you call out. “Master Hamfast?”

Hamfast pads down the hall with his arms open wide. “Katy!” he smiles and gives you a warm hug. “Here for the turnips? I apologise for not bringing them by earlier but I was on my way to market. Shouldn’t keep them warm once they’ve been picked, makes them all soft!” Hamfast leads the way to the pantry and shoulders open the door. It’s full of baskets of vegetables and Hamfast grabs one filled with turnips. “I’ll bring more by on Monday when I come to tend the garden.”

“Thank you, Hamfast. Give my love to Bell will you? How long now until the babe is born?”

“Three weeks!” Hamfast says joyfully. “Three weeks until this house is filled with the sound of a child’s cry.”

You bid him farewell and begin the short walk home. You can hear an owl in the distance and you smile. Truly there must be no better place to live than the Shire? Most of the hobbits have now retired to their homes and the path is lit by light pouring from the windows. Those who weren’t quite ready for the day to end yet have headed down to the tavern and will likely stagger home drunk early tomorrow morning.

Your own hobbit hole is lit up like a thousand candles have been lit by the time you get home. You frown and make a mental note to chastise Bilbo. He really shouldn’t leave so many candles unattended. It’s bad habit.

You try to open the door but nothing happens. You frown. Hobbit holes didn’t have locks on the door and Hamfast oiled this one weekly, so why wasn’t it opening? You lean all of your weight on the door and it shifts slightly but it still doesn’t open all the way. “Bilbo!” you shout and bang on the door. “Bilbo, what’s going on?”

There’s creaking and clanging metal from the other side of the door and a moment later it swings open. Bilbo stands on the other side, looking very dishevelled.

“Why wouldn’t the door open, Bilbo? Is everything okay?”

“No!” he cries. “No it is not! I knew Gandalf was bad news! One dwarf under this roof is fine, but thirteen of them? No!”

“ _Thirteen dwarves_?” you laugh. “Bilbo, what are you on about? Have you taken a blow to the head?”

Bilbo shakes his head and pulls you towards the kitchen, giving you just enough time to kick your boots off on the way. He would’ve undoubtedly shoved you through the arch but there’s a great many dwarves crammed into the small room.

“Oh my!” you exclaim, blinking in surprise and almost dropping your basket of turnips. “What on earth is going on?”

Twelve dwarves all turn their eyes to you and Gandalf smiles from the head of the table. “Ah, Katy, there you are!” he says cheerfully. “Everyone, may I introduce you to the surprise fifteenth member of our company.”

The dwarves stand at once and bow as one, bar the one closest to you who just seems to be glowering at you.

“Katy, may I introduce you Dwalin, Bifur, Oin, Fili, Kili, Bombur, Ori, Dori, Nori, Gloin, Balin, Bofur and Thorin Oakenshielf.” Gandalf introduces all of the dwarves as they bow in turn. Thorin doesn’t bow, but rather nods his head gently.

“Lovely to meet you all, but what are you doing in my brother’s kitchen?”

“I was just about to explain that to Bilbo.” Gandalf smiles, producing a piece of parchment from his robes and unfolding it on the table. It’s a map.

“’The Lonely Mountain’.” Bilbo reads.

“Is that a dragon?” you point to the red ink above the mountain. There isn’t much else it could be other than a dragon.

“That is Smaug.” The dwarf with the funny hat nods. “Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age.”

“Dragon!” Bilbo squeaks.

“Aye, Oin has read the portents and the portents say it is time to reclaim the mountain!” The dwarf with the giant ginger beard insists. “Ravens have been seen returning to the mountain and thus the reign of the great beast will end!”

“This will be no easy task.” The white haired dwarf says glumly. “With an army behind us it would be no easy feat, but with just us?” he laughs darkly. “The odds are against us.”

“I’m sorry to interject,” you frown, glancing at the dwarves around the table, “but do you mean to evict this dragon from the Mountain?”

“Aye, and kill it.” States the bald dwarf with tattoos on his head.

“Whilst I will admit you are in intimidating bunch, I really don’t think you can kill a dragon!”

“Never underestimate dwarves, Katy.” Gandalf says firmly. “They are an awfully resilient bunch.”

“Smaug may already be dead.” Says the dwarf with his back to you. His voice is deep and rumbling and you feel a peace wash over you. “The dragon has not been seen in sixty years. He may have starved or suffocated underneath all the treasure within Erebor’s halls. But we must move quickly. If we have read these signs other will have done so too. We cannot risk our heritage falling to the hands of men, elves or orcs!”

The dwarves bang their fists on the table in agreement.

“You forget the front gate is sealed!” the white haired dwarf protests. “There is no way into the mountain now.”

Gandalf shifts uncomfortably in his seat before reaching into his robes and withdrawing a small key. “I may have the answer to that.” He places the key on the map. “This was given to me by Thrain before he went missing. It opens a dwarf door, to which this map will point to. The door is invisible when closed and I cannot read the map to find it. There are others which can, but once the door is open we will need a great deal of stealth to carry out this task. Hence why we would need a burglar.”

All eyes in the room turn to look at Bilbo who takes a step back. “Me?” he peeps. “Absolutely not! I’m not a burglar! I’ve never stolen anything in my life!”

“I say you will be our burglar and so it will be.” Gandalf says firmly. “There is a great deal more to you than you realise, master Baggins, but I believe you will be a valuable asset to our company. Trust me on this.”

“Very well.” The dwarf in front of you rumbles. “Give him the contract.”

The dwarves mumble amongst themselves and drown out Bilbo’s protests as a contract is passed up the table. “It’s just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, reward and funeral arrangements.” The old dwarf says as the contract is thrust into Bilbo’s hands.

“Funeral arrangements!” Bilbo cries, fumbling with the contract as though it burned him to touch it. He unfolds it and begins to read it under his breath. You watch in alarm as the colour drains from his face. “Laceration, evisceration, incineration?” Bilbo wobbles uneasily on his feet.

“Biblo?” you take a step towards him and pry the contract out of his clammy hands. “Brother are you okay?”

Bilbo shakes his head and promptly faints to the floor.

 


End file.
